Archive for September, 2007

One year ago this Sunday I stepped off an airplane in NYC with 3 suitcases, no definite place to live and that odd mixture of terror and excitement that comes from a major life change. I’m amazed at just how little of that person is still here.

Thanks to all my friends and family for their prayers and support this past year.

Today we mourn the loss of Marcel Marceau, the famed French mime. He was 84. His long time assistant would not disclose any information to the press about the cause. This leaves just a liiiittle too much room for my warped imagination to play. Perhaps someone just thought he was mimicking someone choking. I hope he wasn’t alone. Wouldn’t be much of a 9-1-1 phone call to review, would it? I guess now he really can’t get out of that damn box. I think it’s fairly safe to rule out suicide. I mean, jumping in front of an invisible bus wouldn’t be very effective. I just hope this isn’t all some horrible misunderstanding involving the worlds most convincing coma pantomime.

Okay I’ve gotten all that out of my system, but there’s just one last thing I have to know: Did he have any last words?

I love quotes. Everyone loves quotes. Quotable movies, songs and even comic strips. While other kids were reading “See Spot Run” I was reading The Far Side comic strips and they are still a regular point of reference in my family. Anyway, I have quite a large collection of quotations collected through the years. It’s a very lengthy word document of them (excluding The Notebooks of Lazarus Long which is separate).

As I scanned through them yesterday, I noticed a sad truth. Nearly all of the quotes I have are from people I have never met and probably never will. A couple from family members and one or two from friends, but I want more!! So here’s the request: Everyone (yes, that means you), even if you don’t know who the heck I am, hit me with YOUR best quotes. Give me one or twenty-one; the more the merrier. And if you have no originality at the moment, your favorite quote from someone else is more than welcome too.

I’m confused by fashion. I always have been and probably always will. I’m always a season or two behind on what’s in style and it’s never bothered me too much. I tend to avoid mainstream opinion in general come to think of it. I could really care less what the models on the billboards wear, I have zero interest in what Oprah tells me to read and who to vote for and frankly I loose a little respect for anyone who aspires to emulate someone they read about in a super market tabloid.

Here is my assessment of modern fashion and style: It is an attempt to be unique and original by dressing just like everyone else. This in itself is flawed logic, but then logic doesn’t really enter into it much when we’re talking about a generation of youth who intentionally buy hats 3 sizes too big just so they can wear them sideways and light-up belt buckles for belts on pants that sag below their butts.

But it’s not just the youth I see today. We just finished up “Fashion Week” here in the city. The big tents in Bryant Park that show off all that’s hot and new. I’ve seen pictures and videos of fashion shows and most stuff strutted down runways is either illegal on the streets or so impractical that you simply can’t function. Let the lady with the sparkly dress that exposes one breast get on the subway with her 7 foot feather sticking out of her hair and see how well she fairs. What’s the point in designing something that is completely unusable?

Think for yourself. Be yourself. Guys if a girl won’t give you the time of day because your jeans aren’t predistressed, then she’s too shallow to be worth your time. Girls, if a guy won’t look at you just because he won’t be able to see down your shirt when he does then you really aren’t missing out on anything special.

Many of you who know me well know one of my biggest pet peeves is small talk. I hate being in an elevator with someone I know just well enough to be socially obligated to say something to, yet have nothing to talk about. I hate seeing someone I’m pissed at and having all this emotional crap to wade through, yet being resigned to talking about the weather because I’m not supposed to be rude.

However after another restless night, the weather is exactly what’s on my mind. I am always ready for winter, but I don’t think I’ve ever been more excited about it than this year. I’m tired of sweating every minute of the day I’m not in my office. I’m anxiously watching for the leaves in Central Park to change because A) It’s absolutely beautiful and B) it is the promise that it’s going to start getting colder soon. I just can’t wait to pull my sweaters out, put on a coat and take a nice brisk stroll.

And if one more person says to me, “You’re from Texas, you should be used to the heat” I’m going to put on my cowboy hat and my boots, get on my horse, chase them down and hog-tie them for subjecting me to yet another southern stereotype. While eating salsa and speaking with funny accent.